


Won’t You Give Me (All of Your Desire)

by nymphe



Series: Losin’ All My Innocence [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, First Kiss, Kissing, Kissing Kink, M/M, Making Out, Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymphe/pseuds/nymphe
Summary: “Tell me your mouth is as sensitive as your neck,” Derek says, repressing a growl at the thought of Stiles strung out and kiss-drunk.“Yeah,” Stiles replies, voice breathy and broken, mouth hardly separated an inch from Derek’s, “it’s not exactly a sensitivity thing, not really, I just...really like being kissed. Like a lot. It’s kind of a thing for me, which is actually really distressing considering I’ve only kissed two other people in my life and haven’t had the opportunity to thoroughly explore it as a thing.”





	Won’t You Give Me (All of Your Desire)

**Author's Note:**

> kissing kink as promised ;) had only intended on writing the one kissing kink fic for the series, but there’s a high probability of me writing/posting more kissing kink because that’s my shiiii.
> 
> explicit because there are orgasms, but as the tags imply they are clothed when they occur. there’s no overt sexual content...just someone becoming too aroused while mackin’.
> 
> title from desire by sub focus.

It occurs to Derek later - after he’d willed away his own erection (much to the disapproval of his aching cock), after Stiles had changed into a clean pair of Derek’s sweats and been thoroughly crushed into a nest of blankets and pillows by a pack of overexcited puppies - that he’d made Stiles come in his pants before he’d even kissed him.

A fact which he plans to rectify the second he can get Stiles alone again.

•

The opportunity to do such comes up sooner than expected - after a few hours of cuddling under the pretense of watching movies, the pack starts to disperse. Kira and Scott have plans with her family for dinner, Allison has a thing with her dad, Boyd and Erica literally just disappear without making an excuse, Isaac and Cora disappear with a _poor_ excuse, and Lydia drags Jackson to some event downtown.

He’d sort of figured Stiles would leave with the rest of them - head back home to hang out with his dad or catch up on sleep - but he doesn’t; he lingers, folding blankets back up and returning pillows and cushions to the couches.

“Dad switched to night shifts this week so we could hang out during the days,” he explains, shrugging, “thought I’d stay here a while instead? You know, hang out in the pack house, drench myself in pack smell while I can.”

Derek _barely_ resists the urge to toss him into his bed and thoroughly drench him in pack smell in other ways. Later, maybe.

Instead, he settles for crossing over to where Stiles is stacking the folded blankets in a pile on the coffee table, presumably to be put into a linen closet at some point in the future - but more than likely it’ll just stay on the table until the next pack pile, which Derek expects will be happening pretty frequently while the whole pack is in town.

“Hi,” Stiles says, smiling softly when he glances up and notices Derek is within touching distance. 

“Hi,” Derek parrots, “Can I kiss you?”

Stiles lets out a soft huff of an exhale, throws the blanket he’d been folding onto the couch. “I’d be kinda disappointed if you didn’t - I mean you _did_ already make me come. Actually, you should probably buy me dinner sometime, too.”

“Tomorrow? That diner you like on 10th?”

“It’s a date,” Stiles says, with that same breathtaking grin on his face as before, and Derek is torn between staring at it forever and kissing it off of his mouth.

Not _that_ torn - kissing Stiles until he’s breathless and begging for more is something Derek can’t deny he’s been thinking about for the last five hours. Longer, if he’s being completely honest.

“Yeah,” he says, distantly, stepping forward to close the gap between them.

He pulls Stiles’ body flush against his with his hands on his hips, resolutely keeping his hands and mouth away from Stiles’ neck and throat - for now, because he’ll definitely be revisiting them later - and leans in slowly, giving Stiles time to get comfortable. As comfortable as he can get, anyway; Derek can hear his heartbeat racing away in his chest and his scent radiating _desire_ and _joy_. He kind of preens about that, to be honest, because knowing Stiles is this affected before Derek’s even kissed him? A huge stroke to his ego.

Stiles’ heartbeat stutters when Derek finally leans his face in - but he still doesn’t kiss him, yet, and Stiles’ noise of disappointment makes Derek smirk a little bit. Instead, he nudges his nose against Stiles’ gently, nuzzles his cheek with his scruff. He kisses the corner of his mouth, teasing, and outright smiles when Stiles lets out a frustrated huff and tries to tilt his head to get Derek’s mouth on his. 

Predictably, when he finally presses his mouth to Stiles’, Stiles lets out a happy little sigh and his arms move up to wind around Derek’s shoulders.

Stiles’ lips are soft and warm and just slightly chapped under his, and he tastes like _heaven_. Derek tilts Stiles’ head back just slightly, just to make it easier to capture Stiles’ plush bottom lip between his, and Stiles moans against him in response.

He pulls away after a few seconds to see Stiles’ face, a little too satisfied at the way Stiles unconsciously tries to follow after his mouth - and Stiles is already slightly flushed, eyes closed and face lax, like just an innocent closed-mouthed kiss was enough to ruin him. Which, Derek admits, has his wolf itching to pounce and _take_. 

“Tell me your mouth is as sensitive as your neck,” Derek says, repressing a growl at the thought of Stiles strung out and kiss-drunk.

“Yeah,” Stiles replies, voice breathy and broken, mouth hardly separated an inch from Derek’s, “it’s not exactly a sensitivity thing, not really, I just...really like being kissed. Like a lot. It’s kind of a thing for me, which is actually really distressing considering I’ve only kissed two other people in my life and haven’t had the opportunity to thoroughly explore it as a thing.”

Derek groans, then. He’s also suddenly pretty certain, by the thick smell of Stiles’ arousal wafting off of him, that he might be underselling just how much he enjoys being kissed, and while he debates asking Stiles about that later, he has more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, making Stiles come just by kissing him, and standing is no longer a viable option if he intends to kiss Stiles until he’s falling apart as prettily as he had before.

“Allow me to give you that opportunity, then,” he says, pressing another kiss to the boy’s pretty pink mouth, just to pull back again the second Stiles starts whining at the chasteness of it.

“Be my guest,” Stiles replies. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are wet, and Derek’s never seen him look so _beautiful_.

“Couch or bed.” It doesn’t really come off like a question, but that’s fine, because Stiles nods eagerly in agreement, apparently not understanding that Derek had been asking for his preference.

The couch is closer, but as much as Derek had enjoyed having Stiles in his lap earlier - having him pressed head-to-toe against him, horizontal in a bed? Derek can’t lie and say that he doesn’t want that. Doesn’t want his bedsheets and pillows covered in Stiles’ delectable scent for him to enjoy later.

So, bed it is, then.

He tucks his fingers into the waistband of Stiles’ pants - _his_ pants, on Stiles - and tugs, walking them backwards. He almost regrets not going for the couch, because his bedroom is upstairs - which means he’s going to have to separate his face from Stiles’ for the time it takes them to get upstairs, which is almost unthinkable. But the end result (Stiles’ scent seeped into his sheets, hopefully) is enough to urge him on, and he ends up half-pulling and half-carrying Stiles upstairs to his room.

And because he can’t resist, he kisses Stiles again just outside the room - pushes him against the closed door and lets Stiles’ hands roam under his shirt while he licks the boy’s bottom lip, and he hasn’t even gotten his tongue properly into Stiles’ mouth yet but he can already tell Stiles will be a wanton mess well before then.

Stiles smells good like this, tinged with the sweetness of pure boyish happiness, something that Derek already knows he’ll never get enough of after years of smelling him hurting and pained, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to do everything in his power to keep him smelling like this all the time, now.

Stiles’ fingers curl against his abs when he pulls away, and he noises his protest, but Derek ignores it because in no way is he _done_. “Used to think about kissing you,” he says, “sometimes just when I wanted you to shut up, but. Usually just because I _wanted_ you.”

Even if he can’t see it, he can feel Stiles’ pleased little smile an inch away from his mouth, can smell the wave of fresh-happy-scent that crashes over him, can hear the spike of his heartbeat.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, “it’s like that for me - kissing is just - it’s more intimate than sex, it’s like -“

Derek gets it, understands better than maybe anyone that you can fuck around with someone just to get off, but that kissing proves _intent_ \- and he wants Stiles to know just how intentional this is for him, too, so he settles his hand on Stiles’ lower back and crushes their bodies together the next time he kisses him.

The need to get Stiles in his bed is suddenly pressing and insistent, and this time he doesn’t even pull away or break the kiss while he moves them - because the removal of Stiles’ mouth from his own at this point would be an absolute travesty. He holds Stiles’ body to his own when he pushes the door open, meshes their bodies together while he walks them across the room, entwines their legs while he drops them to the bed.

Being horizontal breaks his reverie and leaves him with nothing but ferocious _eagerness_. He settles his hips between the inviting V of Stiles’ legs and then gets back to work kissing the boy senseless.

He’s maybe a little too eager; he can’t deny that the way he gets his hand in Stiles’ hair and pulls his head back to deepen the kiss maybe comes off as controlling and a little domineering, but Stiles moans like he doesn’t even care about the blatant display of Derek’s more animalistic tendencies, moans like he likes it, like he _wants_ it - and who would Derek be to deny Stiles _anything_?

When he finally slips his tongue in Stiles’ mouth it’s everything he’s ever hoped for and more, soft and wet and warm, and he has to push down thoughts of how his mouth will feel in less innocent places to focus on drawing more of those delightful, porn-worthy sounds out of the boy’s perfect mouth.

But even without all of Stiles’ pretty noises, it’s evident the kiss is effecting him by the press of his dick hard against the solid plane of Derek’s lower abdomen.

And Derek really, really can’t wait to finally undress the boy beneath him, but this time isn’t about that - so he lets Stiles’ hips jerk against his but doesn’t press down with his own, no matter how much he _wants_ to.

He only breaks away when the need for oxygen is overwhelming, even if Stiles does his very best to convince Derek oxygen is unnecessary by the way he whines like he needs Derek’s mouth more than he needs air. But even then he can’t pull completely away from him, settles for peppering kisses along his cheekbones, his jaw, the corner of his mouth - and even if he wants to get his mouth back on Stiles’ neck and throat, he’s careful not to stray further than the line of his jaw, because, again, this time isn’t for that. Stiles had said he’d wanted the opportunity to thoroughly explore just how intensely just being kissed effects him, and Derek’s going to give him exactly that.

When he catches his breath properly and looks at Stiles’ face only to see nothing but primal _desire_ , he can’t help but dive right back into his mouth. It’s almost feral, the way he kisses him like he wants to own him from the inside out, but Stiles tips his head back like he understands and wants it too, and that just drives Derek’s need _further_. Stiles is so open and receptive and desperate - he’s a fucking wet dream.

He keeps kissing him until his mouth feels sore and raw, until he’s sure Stiles’ chin and cheeks and jaw are aching from the prickly abrasiveness of his beard, until Stiles’ moans and sweet little whines turn into high-pitched whimpers of need, until the insistent press of his crotch against Derek’s stomach turns into a steady rut and grind that leaves Derek just as breathless and high-strung as he’d intended to have Stiles feeling.

But even then, he doesn’t take it further. He wants to, and he can tell Stiles wants to - but he’s drunk on undoing Stiles like this, with simple touches, and as much as his instincts are telling him to strip the boy naked and take what’s being offered, he’s determined to get Stiles to fall apart just like this.

And Stiles had had a point - just laying here and kissing does feel closer, more intimate, than any of his previous quick-and-dirty flings had been; Kate had hated kissing, had always just fucked him and left. He’d never really gotten anywhere like this with Jennifer - had thought then that it had just been about not having the time for foreplay and softness, and the few flings in between had just been to take an edge off. There hadn’t been affection, depth. Just pure satiation and lust and need - this is _want_ , and that makes all the difference.

Derek has never thought just laying in bed and making out could be so satisfying. It feels like he’s laying himself bare to Stiles, letting him in, letting him close - and Derek can be dense, but he’s not stupid. Just fooling around, kissing Stiles - it requires a level of intimate trust and safety around a partner that he thought he’d never get again.

And that realization maybe makes him slow down a little bit, turn the kisses more tender and purposeful, _meaningful_. Stiles responds even sweeter to the tenderness than he had to the forceful hunger; one of his roaming hands settles against the side of Derek’s face and he keeps pulling away to pant against Derek’s mouth. His kisses go from anxious and frantic to languid and _heady_ , like he knows he doesn’t have to try to get as much as possible as fast as possible because he’ll have _time_ with Derek. Even his scent softens, goes from spicy and sharp to fresh and hazy.

It’s when Derek moves his hand from Stiles’ hair to rub his thumb across his spit-slick, parted lips that Stiles breaks. He starts shaking, his hips rocking up - and the friction can’t possibly be enough to be properly getting him off, his dick trapped behind the layers of clothing between them, and Derek doing his level best to abstain from grinding down against him - and Stiles’ tongue darts out to lick the pad of Derek’s thumb just as Derek leans back in to kiss where his thumb is lingering, and then his breath hitches and there’s the salty-sweet tang of come in the air.

Even though the smell of a partner’s come is something that’s always bound to set him off like a rocket, Derek ignores his own dick for the second time that day, only to duck his face and give in to the siren’s call that is Stiles’ neck. The second he gets his kiss-numbed lips on Stiles’ throat it seems to send an aftershock of overstimulation through him, and he gasps and tips his head back - which only serves to give Derek better access to the intoxicating column of his throat, and Derek might not be evil, but _fuck_ if he’s not going to draw Stiles’ orgasm out until he’s crying from the pleasure of it.

He doesn’t stop alternatively mouthing and licking at Stiles’ neck and throat until Stiles’ hand finds his shoulder and his fingernails start to bite little crescent-shaped indents - which Derek takes as Stiles’ signal that any more stimulation and he might blackout.

It takes more willpower than Derek would like to admit to, pulling his mouth completely off of Stiles’ skin. But the result is that he can look at Stiles’ face, slack with pleasure and so completely beautiful that Derek can’t believe there aren’t more people constantly trying to crawl all over Stiles. 

(And there _won’t_ be after this, if Derek has any say.)

“Can’t believe you made me come in my pants _twice in one day_ , and we haven’t even been on a date yet,” Stiles says, long minutes later, breathy and harsh. “You totally owe me two dates now.”

“Please,” Derek groans, “if you keep responding like that with your clothes still on, I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to be in public without causing a scene.” He nudges his face against Stiles’, presses a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, revels in the way Stiles’ heartbeat stutters, the way a shiver wracks his body. “And If the punishment for making you come is dating you, I’m fully prepared to accept the consequences. But next time, I’m getting you naked first.”

Because he _fully_ intends to map out every single erogenous zone on Stiles’ body.

Stiles grins, hooks his legs around his waist and rolls them over until he’s straddling his hips. “So you owe me two dates...and I’m pretty sure I owe you two orgasms.”

Fair’s fair.

Not that Derek minds.

**Author's Note:**

> prostate stim still comin’, but i feel like there’s too big of a gap between kissing kink and prostate massages, so if you have any ideas on which of Stiles’ erogenous zones our boys should explore before then, please feel free to drop them below!


End file.
